It is the East
by EpicInTheLibrary
Summary: Kyle doesn't appreciate the new project he's been assigned. T for swearing and... things. Kyle/Kenny


_Dude, this fic is so bipolar, you don't even know. I think it's because I was listening to Mae when I was writing the end and it just fit with everything so perfectly and I don't know, but it was great. lol_

_So yeah, we're reading Romeo and Juliet in English and when we were talking about what the actors in Shakespeare's time did when their characters kissed, I got this amazing idea. That turned into this. The ending totally wasn't planned, it was Mae's fault. And my impulsive writer thinking skills. fff_

_Yeah, I'm totally working on everything else, just really slowly because I'm kind of deprived of ideas at the moment. ;-; Does anyone want to suggest what characters Kyle and Stan should be on Super Smash Bros Melee? lol_

_Anyway, enjoy this. Sorry there's so much cussing at the beginning, I don't even know. It's Kyle, that's what it is._

-

"Hey Kyle."

"What."

"Did you know that back in Shakespeare's time only boys were allowed to act?"

"Yes, Kenny, as a matter of fact, I did know that."

"Did you know that guys had to dress as girls to play girls' parts?"

"Fuck off." The idiot only laughs at my reaction, grinning stupidly. I guess I've given him the reaction he wants, because he leaves me alone and goes back to his crude drawing of a stick figure guy banging a stick figure girl, with extra emphasis on the guy's dick and the girl's boobs. I sigh. Idiot.

Sometimes I really fucking hate Mr. Garrison. He's sexist, biased in every way, and doesn't teach a single thing. It's a wonder he hasn't been fired yet. It's also a wonder how he's been our teacher every fucking year since third grade. I don't know how he's managed it, but here we are, in the ninth grade, and he's our English teacher. He doesn't know anything, either. He's constantly consulting his teacher's guide and spends more time lecturing us on current events than actually teaching. I swear, if I can't go to the college I want because of him, I'll fucking kill him.

But anyway, the reason I hate him today is because of our current study, Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet in particular. I think that the only reason he's actually teaching this is because of the strict policy restricting women to act back then, forcing men to play girls parts, which is really fucking gay. Seriously, this is the most he's taught us all year. Bastard.

So long story short, Garrison's extremely biased and retarded. He's assigned the cliche project where the class pairs up and acts out the famous balcony scene in front of everybody. Except he's assigned the kissing scene. Because he wants to see guys touching each other in really gay ways.

At first it was everyone who had to do it, but once it was pointed out that only guys could act back in Shakespeare's time, he, being the sexist fucking bastard that he is, changed the assignment so that the girls in the class don't have to do it and get full credit. I'm pretty sure that's, like, against the law or something. My mom would know. I should probably consult her, But then again, I don't really want her getting involved. At all.

So the pairs were changed to exclude the girls, and now I'm with Kenny. Which really fucking sucks, because we didn't get to choose who's Romeo and who's Juliet, so Kenny won't fucking shut up about it. Yeah. Guess who's Juliet. Fucking sexist prick teacher Garrison.

So now, because Mr. Garrison's absolutely ridiculous, I have to dress up as Juliet, because for a passing grade both partners have to be in full costume. Thankfully we don't have to actually kiss, because I would kill myself right now if we did. Garrison said we could do a stage kiss, with our hand covering our mouths, or one of us shielding the other from view. But we still have to touch each other. It's part of the grade.

Well, I'd just like to say that this is the gayest fucking assignment I've ever had in my life, and that's saying something, because I've had Mr. Garrison as my teacher my whole life.

At least he didn't pair me up with Cartman. I shudder at the thought. I would kill myself sooner than I would touch Eric Cartman like that. Or let him have the satisfaction of being Romeo over me. Which would undoubtedly happen, even though considering his past, _he's_ the one who should be dressing up as a girl.

So tomorrow's the presentation, and we're supposed to be rehearsing lines right now. But, obviously, we aren't. Kenny refuses to waste "good art time," as he so fittingly put it, so I'm stuck sitting here fuming about him and the assignment and Mr. fucking Garrison in general. Kenny prefers rehearsing at home (my house in particular), because he doesn't want anyone "stealing our hot acting skills." I think I hit him when he said that.

Sighing irately, I turn my head to see what Stan's doing. He's been paired up with Craig, which Kenny thinks is hot. He's jealous of Stan, and to tell the truth, I'm jealous of Craig. I'd much rather be with Stan on this assignment than Kenny. But whatever. It is what it is. Though I really fucking wish it isn't.

Tweek is with Clyde, Token's with Pip, and Cartman's with Damien. That's the only good thing about this whole thing. Cartman's fucking scared shitless of Damien, and the fact that he's paired up with him is hilarious to me. But then again, Damien told him up front that he's not going anywhere near the assignment, and that was fine with Cartman. I think he was kind of happy to hear that. Whatever; his failing grade, not mine.

Stan and Craig are currently going over lines together, like they should be. Stan looks nervous, and Craig just looks bored. I wish he would make some sort of effort to put Stan at ease and look like he actually wants to get an A on this project, but, of course, he doesn't, flipping Stan off carelessly every now and then. I can tell that he'd rather we switch partners too, because he and Kenny are fucking butt buddies. Well, not really, but close enough. They're just about as close as Stan and I are and seem to be able to read each other's minds. They're always out doing who knows what together, and I'm pretty sure they have matching fucking underwear. If they even wear any. Gross.

So basically, they're partners in crime. Which is kind of scary, because I'm sure they could fucking take over the world if they wanted to, what with Craig's devious mind underlying all that pissed off, endlessly bored crap, and Kenny's understanding of people and everything. Seriously, he can fucking manipulate anyone.

Anyway, coming away from my stupid pointless ramblings that mean absolutely nothing, I turn back to Kenny and sigh again. He hears and looks up from his nearly completed drawing, smirking. I roll my eyes.

"I swear, Kenny, if I get an F because of you, I'll fucking-"

"Dude, chill. You'll get a good grade. We're practicing at your house after school, remember?"

"I hate you," I mutter grudgingly for no reason in particular. He just slaps on a mischievous grin and draws one final line on the desk before slipping the pencil into his backpack and zipping it up.

"Bell's gonna ring," he explains, gesturing towards the clock at the front of the room.

"Mhmm," I agree senselessly, head propped up in my hand. He catches me staring at his drawing and smirks maddeningly.

"That's us," he states, pointing at the stick figures. And before I can smack him for it, the bell rings and he's out the door.

-

"But soft! What light through yonder wind-"

"Kenny, get on with the presentation and do it right!" Mr. Garrison reprimands irately. He's already a little snappy from a few previous acts, namely Damien's and Cartman's and Tweek's and Clyde's. The first involved Damien standing at the front in silence and picking idly at a hangnail while Cartman cussed Mr. Garrison out, complete with the finger and the words, "Your gay ass play can go fuck itself, you motherfuckin' homo douchebag." Somehow I'm not surprised that he hasn't come back from the principal's office yet.

Tweek and Clyde's went no better. The result was Tweek running out of the room screaming something about pressure and the FBI's government conspiracies filming him in a dress for use as blackmail. Clyde just sighed, slapped his palm over his face, and went after him. The closing door brought utter silence and an angry sigh from Mr. Garrison.

Now Kenny and I are the third act, and already he's fucking up our grade. Maybe he _likes_ asphyxiation. I don't know; I guess I'm going to find out.

In all truthfulness, I'm kind of mortified right now. I'm sure my face is bright red- and can you really blame me? I mean, I'm in a _dress_ (complete with frills and lace) in front of my English class of peers. I think I'm going to kill Mr. Garrison once I get my grade back.

Anyway, Kenny's grinning like he just pantsed the principal. He nods obediently at the scowling Mr. Garrison and turns back to me. He doesn't really have to wear anything relatively bad. He has on this shitty kind of robe thing, probably made of his old dirty bedsheets. I hate to think of what might be on there. The class is staring at us expectantly and I'm _so_ relieved Cartman's not here to see me in this piece of shit. It's from the prop department for drama. I wonder how many chicks have worn this thing. Actually, I wonder how many _dudes_ have worn this thing. I shudder.

Kenny puts on his serious face, what he calls his "acting face." It's actually pretty amazing how good at acting he is when he really wants to be. I try to catch up with him, but he's always about three or four feet ahead. It's kind of frustrating, really. I guess he's just a really good liar.

Face solemn (for once), Kenny approaches me, and it sends chills down my spine the way his eyes are drilling into mine. They're a really distinctive shade of blue...

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." Kenny's voice is really soft, like he means what he's saying. Like he's Romeo and I'm Juliet. Like he's really into what we're doing.

I almost forget my lines, which is really stupid and overdone. Almost angrily before I get a hold of myself and calm down, I reply, "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

It really bothers me that I tripped over those first few words, but it's quickly forgotten as Kenny begins to speak again.

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?" His eyes are focused intently on me, telling me like he knows my stressing over being as perfect as him that it's okay, just concentrate. It's really distracting, but at the same time it's exactly what I need.

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer," I answer quietly. Kenny moves closer and takes my hand in his, holding it up and pressing our palms together, fingers spread out against mine. I stare mesmerized at them, unable to ignore the electric shocks pulsing through my nerves at the touch.

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair." My eyes return to his face and find his fixed once again on mine. His stare is intense, and I think I'm a little lost in it.

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake." I speak in almost a whisper, barely paying attention to the words as I stare up at his gorgeous eyes, head tilted back slightly. I think my lips are still parted, but I don't really notice consciously. He suddenly seems much taller than he was two minutes ago and I guess I wasn't paying attention to our proximity, because I now find that his face is mere inches from mine.

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take," he breathes over my face, and then he does something we definitely did _not_ rehearse. He laces our fingers together and swings our hands down to the side, taking his other and placing it on the side of my face, the side that's facing _away_ from our audience. And he leans in, eyes fluttering shut as he closes the distance between us, and suddenly his lips are brushing against mine in what I want to call a perfected, fluid motion.

The room goes silent- like absolutely _silent_. No one dares breathe, make a noise, anything. I go completely frozen, wondering why my eyes are suddenly flickering shut. Kenny's pressing closer, fixing our lips together like it was meant to be, and when he feels me still he takes his hand from mine and uses it to pull me closer by the small of my back, encouraging me with the movement of his lips on mine. At first it doesn't register, but then I realize I'm kissing back, hesitantly, unsurely. Kenny guides me gently, smoothly, and I'm pretty sure it's the most amazing first kiss anyone's ever received by far.

I think I remember where I am and what the circumstances are when the word 'fags' is muttered from somewhere to my right, where I realize the audience is, and has been the whole time. Face flushing furiously, I jolt away, brought crashing hard back to reality. There are still lingering traces of the spell I was under just a second ago, like Kenny's soft face as he opens his eyes slowly, apparently uncaring to the class and their reactions. My mouth might be open, but I can't really be sure. To tell the truth, I'm completely shocked, I guess.

Suddenly the silence is broken by a loud call of, "Encore!" I snap my head over to find Craig grinning encouragingly and more color flares to my face. I realize Kenny's hands are still touching me and take a step back, breaking contact. His eyes are still focused meaningfully on mine, like he's waiting for me to do something. I'm at a loss for words, and it's a good thing that was the end of the presentation, because I wouldn't be able to remember my lines for my life. At Craig's call he glances up with a slight grin, and Craig gives him a thumbs up. I think Stan's face might be a little green.

"Craig, shut up," Mr, Garrison reprimands, a little late, and I don't blame him. He looks at us, eyes full of something unidentifiable, like regret or something. Probably regret for pairing the two of us up. Well, his fault. If he's got a boner now, well, he can't blame _us_.

Well, maybe he can blame Kenny.

"You two can take your seats now," Mr. Garrison tells us, obviously trying to sound totally unfazed. Oh, hell no. I'm not staying in this dress for one more second.

"Can I go get dressed?" I ask, planning on just leaving anyway if he says no.

"Can I go with him?" Kenny breaks in before Garrison can answer. The teacher looks like he really wants to say no but sighs and rubs his temples, apparently having given up.

"Yeah, sure, go get dressed. Don't forget a hall pass."

I really don't like the fact that the whole class's eyes are on us as I retrieve my backpack (which has my clothes in it) and Kenny waits for me at the front of the room. I try not to think about it as we exit the room together, the door shutting gratifyingly behind us. I subconsciously hope that no one else is in the school halls to see me in this fucking dress, but don't really pay any mind to the thought, as I'm still pretty shaken up by the events of three minutes ago.

Kenny is silent as we walk towards the closest bathroom together. Maybe he's scared that I'll blow up at him about it. Which I guess is pretty substantial, because that does sound like something I'd do. But not right now. Right now I'm actually pretty emotionless. Like, I don't really know how to react, because even though it might have gotten us a failing grade and maybe even a detention, there is the slightest chance that I may have even liked it just a little bit. It was... really gay, yeah, but...

Finally we reach the bathroom and I push inside, not even bothering to check for anyone else. You know what, fuck this stupid dress. I don't care who sees me in it. It's just... fucking Kenny.

Holy _shit_, I just made out with Kenny McCormick. It finally hits me like some kind of tidal wave filled with brick walls and boulders and shit that _really_ nails the fact right through me. I clench my fingers into fists and whirl around, facing Kenny with my face contorted into some mix of everything I'm feeling right now that I hope isn't ugly. The door is swinging shut behind him and I drop my backpack to the ground as I begin to speak.

"Why the hell did you _do_ that?" I demand harshly, voice maybe a little too loud, like yelling just a bit. Kenny cringes and looks kind of remorseful, but I don't really care right now. There's this rage pounding through my veins, but it's not rage at all. It's an overwhelming surge of emotions taking over me, and the only way I know how to deal with it is to scream. So that's what I do.

"What the hell, Kenny? You- In front of the class, and during a presentation we're going to get _graded_ on, and- just-"

"I'm sorry," Kenny responds quietly, dejectedly. "I... Never mind." He's looking down at his shoes like they're the best thing since sliced bread but devoid of the awed expression that would be there. His face is actually... kind of sad. This confuses me.

"You what?" I ask, trying in vain to calm down, so that the words come out like venom.

"I just..." He sighs, glancing up at me briefly before swiftly averting his gaze once again. "I just wanted to kiss you."

This stuns me into silence. He... _what?_ That's not what I expected to hear. At all. I just figured he did that for... attention. Like, because kissing me in front of the class is something Kenny would _do_. It never occurred to me that he could have done that because he... wanted to. Like he cared that way. I'm at a loss for words, but I try my best to pull through.

"I.. I didn't realize..." I swallow. "What do you mean?"

He sighs in frustration and locks eyes with me again. "I mean I really wanted to kiss you and so I took the first chance I could and did it. I know it was selfish and stupid and I'm sorry, okay?" I feel bitten by his words. He's stolen the venom from me and is now spitting it back. It stings.

"I.. No, I didn't..."

"What?" Kenny snarls harshly. I'm scared; I've never seen Kenny like this, ever. His expression is blazing and his lip is curling and his eyes are so full of anger that tries to hide pain that transfers through to me. I'm biting my lip, agitated.

"I didn't realize your reason!" I burst out, again going with my default reaction of anger. "I didn't- I thought you just did it because you could. I thought you did it for no reason. I..." I trail off, again at a loss for words. Something in Kenny's expression changes and he calms down, visibly forcing himself to do so. He closes his eyes and exhales through his nose and relaxes his tensed muscles. He opens his eyes, and that pain is more prominent in his pretty blue irises.

"Look, this is causing too much trouble. I don't want this to ruin anything between us. Can we just pretend it never happened and go on with our lives?" It looks like it's killing him to say this and I think it's safe to say I'm totally subdued now. I don't like that pain. I want it gone.

"Kenny..." I start, approaching him steadily, slowly. He backs away, clearly not wanting to be any closer to me than we already are. I persist, however, and soon he's pressed against the door with me no more than a foot away. I tentatively reach out and slide my palm against the side of his face, and he closes his eyes upon contact, almost seeming to lean into the touch. "Kenny, for how long...?"

"Not too long..." he responds quietly, still and relaxed. It's like everything just melted away as soon as I touched him.

"How long?" I press gently, slipping my other hand up to the opposite side of his face, so that I'm holding him in my hands. He exhales shakily, bringing one of his own up to my right, fingers barely touching the skin, like he's afraid if he does it will all go away.

"About a month or two," he breathes, lips remaining parted. I pull closer, and his hand lands on mine when he feels my exhalation.

"Well, it's over," I answer softly, leaning closer. "Give me my sin again," I murmur; even though that wasn't part of the presentation, I remember it from the book and think it rather fitting to the situation, despite it being Romeo's line rather than Juliet's.

When I feel his lips on mine for the second time, I know I've made the right decision. The sensation is kind of tingling and a little beautiful but mostly perfect. I tilt his head back and kiss him more fully, and he submits, accepts, responds. The hand placed over mine slides down, fingers ghosting over my skin to curl softly around my wrist, gently, lightly. And he kisses back, though this time I'm the one guiding him, convincing him, showing him I mean it.

Once we pull apart I'm almost disappointed, but his eyes are open and staring at me. I blink and press my lips softly to his once again before pulling back and smiling at him. He tentatively smiles back, reaching up and pulling my hand from the side of his face so that he can press our palms and fingers together again.

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair." His smile turns into a small wry grin as he says this and as he pulls me back in for another kiss, I'm thinking about how glad I am that we had this assignment.


End file.
